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When I was little my Mom always called instructions “destructions”… the nerdy child I was spent years correcting her until I finally got the joke. From then on I just rolled my eyes every time because man, that’s a repetitive joke in a family that loves flatpack.

This week I moved into my new house with my university friendlings Nik and Danks. Since I left Lincoln and moved home for a year both myself and Danks have been nurturing our love of real ales (I’m about a year ahead of him in newbie beer geek terms). We went out for a few drinks on one of the my first night’s back and whilst myself and Danks waxed lyrical about craft beer, Nik and Jamie compared various versions of a Long Island Iced Tea around Lincoln.

Skip a few days and Dank and I find ourselves in a home brew shop buying Baby’s First Brew Kit. After a lot of confusing, peering at pieces of papers, Googling things and realising we don’t have a measuring jug we (hopefully) followed the instructions and now have our very own bitter fermenting in the living room cupboard.

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Now we’ve just got to wait. Even before our first brew is finished I can’t help but fantasizing about choosing hops and malts and doing the whole thing from scratch.

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